


The First Annual Torchwod Cardiff Employee Concert

by Amuly



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-23
Updated: 2010-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One late night playing Rockband at Owen’s gives Tosh an idea: a Torchwood employee concert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Annual Torchwod Cardiff Employee Concert

Tosh’s tongue was poking out from her mouth in concentration. Red, red, blue, green… “Oh, bugger it all, Owen! How are you so much better at this than I am?”

Owen mock-smashed his plastic guitar, holding his arms out and accepting oh-so-not-gracefully the applause from the video crowd. “Because I am the master at following blinking colored lights!”

Tosh tossed her guitar on the couch, dejected. “But I’m…” she grabbed her beer and twirled it grumpily, “ _I’m_ the computer expert…”

Owen plopped beside her, taking a swig of his own beer and patting her reassuringly. Tosh did her best not to lean into the brief bit of contact. “It’s alright, Tosh. Videogames are a whole different monster. And I spent most my days at uni playing them.”

“But I can actually _play_. Can you play a musical instrument?”

Owen put a hand over his heart, affronted. “Excuse me, ‘course I can!” He placed his beer down on the table and leapt up over the couch. Tosh watched as he scrambled around in his closet. After a moment of cursing, he emerged triumphant, holding a guitar by its neck. “You, my dear Tosh, are looking at the lead guitarist of _The Cum Stains_.”

Tosh spluttered and choked on her beer, spilling it all down her front. “The…the what?” she managed to choke out. The beer stung her sinuses and started to drip out of her nose. Lovely.

“Yeah, well, we were in uni.” Because that explained it, of course. 

Owen climbed over the back of the couch, plopping down next to Tosh with his guitar. Tosh was busy trying to clean up her expelled beer from…everywhere. “So you play?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, I’m no rock god, but I manage. Do you?”

“Do I what?”

Owen rolled is eyes. “Play. You said you actually play.”

Tosh tucked her hair behind her ears, embarrassed. “Violin.”

“Figures.”

“Hey!” Tosh shoved at Owen with her foot. 

“Well, you have to admit, pretty stereotypical.”

Tosh nodded. It was, sort of. But she really liked the violin: she had always thought it was fascinating how such a delicate looking instrument could produce such powerful, moving music. Not that that was analogous to anything in _her_ life, or anything…

“Do you suppose anyone else plays? At work, I mean?”

Owen strummed a few chords on the guitar, mumbling to himself. It didn’t sound too good, but then he fiddled with it and made a few adjustments, nodding when the chords sounded a bit more in tune. “Dunno. Can’t tell with Jack: wouldn’t surprise me either way, really. Probably plays some sort of crazy alien instrument. Ianto…” he shrugged. “Who knows what that kid knows. And I know Gwen plays the recorder.”

“The recorder?” Tosh paused, then blushed. “Oh, that’s a metaphor…”

Owen’s eyes grew wide. “No! No. I mean…” he coughed, glancing at Tosh. “I mean, she actually plays the recorder. Mentioned it once, on a karaoke night or something. That was the only instrument she knew how to play, and that she wished she had learned something else.” He took a swig of beer. “Hey, with all this musical talent floating around, we should start a band! The _Xenophiles_.”

Tosh wrinkled her nose as Owen laughed. “Okay, so that only applies to Ianto and Jack, I guess.”

Tosh blushed and glance down. “And me,” she mumbled, before taking a heavy gulp of her beer.

“Oh, right. The…with Mary. Well I guess we can count Gwen then, with Carys.” Owen paused. “Am I the only wanker around here who _hasn’t_ shagged, or snogged, an alien?”

“That you know of.” Tosh pointed out.

“True, true. That girl last Saturday _was_ acting a bit out of her head.” They laughed – Tosh’s was a bit more forced. 

“Well, we could have a concert. Like a talent show, you know? All musical instruments.”

Owen groaned. “Tell Jack the _only_ talents allowed are musical instrument related. Playing them!” Owen quickly added. “But yeah, that could be fun. One night, Rift-willing.”

“I’ll ask Jack tomorrow.” Tosh set down her beer. “Now. How about you kick my arse again at this terrible game?”

**

Ianto almost dropped the tray of coffee he was bringing into Jack’s office.

“A talent show, huh?” Jack was steepling his fingers. _Oh, please no._ Ianto could tell he was going to agree with Tosh.

“A _musical_ talent show. Owen and I were talking-” _Oh, so that’s what had gotten the idea in Tosh’s head. Figured._ Ianto placed Jack’s coffee mug on his desk, backing away quickly. He did not need Jack asking him about his many _talents_. Not in front of Tosh. “-and he can play guitar, I can play violin, and Gwen can play recorder. We figured you two might play musical instrument, too. What about you, Jack?” Tosh was smiling. “Do you play?”

Jack laughed. “No. Well, okay…” a wicked gleam entered his eye, “but nothing that’s here on Earth. Sorry.” For just a moment his grin faltered; his eyes flickered to Ianto’s. _Something’s going on – bothering him_. 

“That’s fine. That’s actually what Owen said: that you’d play something alien.” 

“Played with plenty of alien… _instruments_ …”

Ianto groaned, rolling his eyes. “Owen said you’d say that, too.” Tosh was smiling smugly.

Jack turned to Ianto. “Am I really that predictable?”

“You _do_ have a one-track mind.” Even as he said it, Ianto was inching his way out the door.

Jack shrugged unabashedly. “Ianto?” _Bollocks_. Ianto turned around, halfway there. _So close to escape_. 

“Yes, sir?” A fake smile spread itself across Ianto’s face.

“How ‘bout it? What instrument can you play?”

Ianto’s eyes flickered over to Tosh, doing his best to ignore the leer that had crept into Jack’s voice. “Actually…” should he tell Jack? He’d never hear the end of it…Then again, who knows? Maybe Jack would like it. “Actually, I don’t play. Didn’t have the opportunity, on the Estate where I’m from.”

An unreadable expression flitted across Jack’s face. Huh. Unreadable and enigmatic Jack was never good. “Too bad. Looks like we’ll just have to have a three man – well, one man, two women – concert.”

A sigh of relief escaped Ianto before he could stop it. He saw Jack’s eyes flicker over to him, and continued before he could get any ideas. “I’ll make sure we have refreshments, then.”

Jack turned away, inscrutable expression fading beneath his patented grin. “Friday night, Rift-willing?”

“Great!” Tosh bounced a little on her way out.

For a moment Ianto stood in the doorway of the office, hesitating. “Is there anything…”

“No, no.” Jack was staring distractedly out the office window. This wasn’t going to end well, whatever Jack was mulling over. But Ianto said nothing, taking the tray of coffee to the rest of the team.

**

The coffee machine hummed as it made five cups of coffee. The smell filled the air, permeating the Hub and soothing the young Welshman who stood in front of the machine. A new smell crept in, alongside the smell of coffee. Without even turning around, Ianto knew that smell. A hand crept around his waist, and Ianto did his best not to lean into the touch. 

As coolly as ever, Ianto smoothed down his tie and jacket, turning to Jack. “Yes, sir? Do you know what order they’ll go in?”

“Dunno. Figured Tosh’d handle that. Speaking of which…” Both men turned to look around for her.

“Here! I’m here! Sorry,” Tosh wiped a lock of hair away from her face. “Just got the violin back from the shop. It’d been in storage so long…” She fumbled around with the case for a moment. “Anyway, here now! Who wants to go first?”

A timid Gwen raised her hand. “I’ll go. Not really much musical talent, after all.” She grinned, self-deprecatingly. As Ianto passed out the coffee and set a plate of biscuits down on the table, the three other members of Torchwood settled down on the couch and surrounding chairs. Jack immediately dropped booted feet onto the table with a thud, draping his arm casually across the back of it. Sitting next to him, Ianto tried to shift away, but Tosh was sitting on his other side, so he was left with no where to go. _So long as Jack doesn’t try anything, and just pays attention to the music, I’m fine_. Ianto stole a glance at Jack’s face. _Oh, hell. I’m buggered_.

“Um…so…” Gwen held the little recorder in front of her awkwardly. “Do I just…?”

“Oh!” Tosh jumped up. “Almost forgot. Hang on…” She jumped up from the couch and over to her monitors, behind Gwen. After a few seconds of tapping, the screens filled with a picture of a concert hall. “There! Now it looks like we’re at Carnegie.”

Owen laughed. “Only you, Tosh. Alright Ms. Cooper, what are you going to serenade us with?”

“Um… _Hot Cross Buns_?” Jack and Owen applauded loudly. With a smile and a deep breath, Gwen brought the recorder up to her lips and started to play. Ianto winced. _Okay. So Gwen has absolutely zero musical ability. Good to know_. 

The song ended, and Gwen’s audience breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oi! It wasn’t that bad!”

Tosh smiled, standing and patting Gwen on the arm. “No, no, it wasn’t. It was…fine.”

Ianto sipped at his coffee. He was doing his best to be as unnoticeable as possible. He was normally good at that; didn’t know why he was having such trouble with it right now. 

Jack’s hand slapped Ianto’s thigh, making him jump. “Lovely rendition, Gwen. Who’s up next?” Ianto did his best not to squirm, he really did, as Jack’s hand squeezed lightly at his thigh. 

Owen shot up. “I’ll go. Might as well get all the shit out of the way before Tosh goes.” He winked at a furiously blushing Tosh.

“Alright, future fans, I’m going to play a little song called _Ziggy Stardust_. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

Next to him, Jack burst out laughing. “Oh, oh Owen, _seriously?”_

Owen shrugged the guitar strap into a better position on his shoulder. “What? Man can’t have an appreciation for Bowie?”

“No, it’s just…” Ianto shot Jack a _look_. His tone of voice was the one he used whenever he spoke about past conquests. Ianto did _not_ need to hear about “that one time I shagged Jagger and Bowie…”. To his surprise, Jack mimed zipping his mouth shut.

In front of the mock-Carnegie hall stage, Owen strummed a chord. The sound was slightly discordant, so Owen stopped, cursing under his breath. “Hang on, hang on. This bloody…” He fiddled for a moment, tightening and loosening some strings. The rest of the team helped themselves to some biscuits as they waited. Well, Ianto, Tosh, and Gwen occupied themselves that way. Jack was too busy tracing increasingly erotic circles on Ianto’s thigh to nab a biscuit for himself.

Another chord filled the air, this one much more in tune than the last. “Alright, alright, I think I’ve got this sussed.” He played a few quick notes, grinning to himself. Then he launched into his rendition of _Ziggy Stardust_ , dramatic hip thrusts and all. 

As the last mad rift and sound of Owen drawing out “Gui-taaaaarr” faded away, the rest of the team burst into thunderous applause. Owen strummed ferociously at the guitar a few times, then held it above his head. “I am a golden god!”

Ianto rolled his eyes, leaning forward to grab another biscuit. He grabbed one for Jack, too; perhaps if his mouth was occupied with chewing his hands wouldn’t be so grabby. “Beautiful, Owen!” Jack jumped up and clasped him on the shoulder. “It was like having Bowie himself here!” A leer crept across Jack’s face, and Ianto resisted the temptation to hide his face in his hands. “Maybe next time we can get you in the whole get-up: sequined shirt, tight trousers, some make-up…”

“Glitter gets _everywhere_ ,” Ianto groaned. He paused, chancing a glance around. The rest of the team, especially Jack, was staring at him with interest. “Not that I…my sister…” Jack’s grin grew wider and even lustier. He’d have to defuse the situation quickly. “Tosh!” He turned away, grabbing Tosh’s elbow and pushing her to her feet. “It’s your turn.”

As Tosh went up to take Owen’s place, Owen snagged three biscuits and plopped down in one of the extra chairs. Tosh plucked a few strings, tuning the violin carefully. “Okay. Well, I’m going to play Mozart’s _Concerto in D Major_.” The team broke out in polite applause. Tosh took a breath, steadying the violin on her chin. 

The moment her bow touched the strings, Ianto was swept away. Tosh was _magnificent_. The music was absolutely beautiful: it flowed out form Tosh’s bow and washed over the team. Toward the end of the piece, Ianto noticed tears in Gwen’s eyes. 

            When it was over, there was a moment of silence. Tosh paused, dropping the violin from her chin. Her eyes darted around nervously. “Um…was it…I’m a bit rusty…” 

            Jack jumped up, swooping Tosh up into a hug. They spun around, and when they stopped, Jack planted a big kiss onto her cheek. “Tosh! That was amazing!”

            “Absolutely fantastic.” Gwen agreed, wiping at her eyes.

            “Nice one, Tosh. Makes me look like a retarded wanker in comparison.” Owen’s arms were crossed, but a grin spread across his face belied any criticism in his words.

            Ianto nodded, smiling up at her. “Very beautiful.” 

Tosh was blushing furiously in the face of all the praise. Just then the Rift monitor chose that moment to go off. The team sprang into action: Tosh turning to her computers and switching the screens back over to the standard Torchwood screens. Owen, Gwen, and Jack grabbed their guns and coms. Ianto was waiting with the SUV keys and Jack’s coat. He helped Jack into the coat, handed over the keys, then started pick up after them. Just another day at Torchwood.

**

After work, which was around eleven that night, the team went their separate ways. Even Ianto managed to avoid Jack for a night alone. He was in a small pub off the main roads. No one should run into him here, and he wanted to be alone tonight. The almost-impromptu concert had reawakened some old feelings in him. But he didn’t want Jack to know.

Which was why he was here, in some dingy old pub, pecking away at the old, out-of-tune piano in the corner. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, his waistcoat unbuttoned and hanging loose. His jacket was slung over a chair in the back, nearly forgotten. His tie was loosened, and the first button of his collar undone. Nearly unrecognizable, he figured. But there he was, as not-himself as possible, bent over the piano. At first he was just playing some scales, then some easier things like Beatles songs and old Ragtime songs. He took a sip from the glass of brandy on the piano and stretched his fingers. Now he was ready to play some songs that actually mattered to him.

He started out simply: _As Time Goes By_ , from Casablanca. As soon as he started playing, he felt all the tension of the past few days fall away. The concert had bothered him, without him even realizing it. But this, here and now - the keys firm beneath his fingers, the old piano still plucking up enough cohesion to release the sounds into the dark pub – this was good. This made sense. This was where he felt comfortable, where he could lose himself in the movement of his fingers over the keys. Didn’t have to even think: just let muscle memory do the work for him, while he listened to the music his fingers produced.

As the sounds of the last notes faded away, loud clapping erupted from the back of the room. Ianto twitched violently, turning around on his bench. There was Jack, standing in the back of the pub: coat on, hands clapping together, a curious little smile on his face. _Oh bollocks_. This was exactly what Ianto didn’t want to happen.

Groaning, Ianto grabbed his glass and polished it off, walking over to Jack. The bartender came over and offered to refill his glass: Ianto nodded. He’d need some liquid courage in order to face Jack. After another long swallow and one more refill, Ianto finally turned to Jack. He was leaning against the bar, eyes flickering across Ianto’s face.

“Hey Jack.”

“Hey Ianto.”

So it wasn’t exactly “of all the gin joints in all the world…” sort of greeting. Ianto would take it.

“So,” Jack glanced down, then back up. “Why didn’t you mention you played?”

“Embarrassed.” Ianto shrugged one shoulder, sipping at his drink. “Can’t play all that well, so I figured, why bother you all?” He polished off the drink, set it on the bar – waved the bartender away when he started over. “How’d you find me?” As if he didn’t already know the answer.

“Tracker on your car. Thought you were acting…off. Wanted to see what you were up to.”

_Wanted to see why I wasn’t in your bed_ , Ianto thought bitterly. Sometimes Ianto…cared about…Jack, but sometimes he could be too overbearing. “Well. Now you know.”

“Now I know,” Jack agreed. Ianto watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly. His hand fluttered out, fingertips reaching for Ianto’s. He tightened his grip as their fingers tangled around each other. “Ianto…” his eyes…his eyes were shining, like he was about to cry. “Ianto, that was _beautiful_. I wish I had known…” his breath caught, and he dropped his eyes again. 

Ianto wasn’t sure what to say. So he opted for caustic wit – like he always did when he felt like him and Jack where stepping onto unfamiliar ground. “Well, nothing like Toshiko’s. Brought a tear to Gwen’s eye, did you see?”

“Ianto.”

Ianto stopped, false grin falling from his face. Jack was staring at him, _really_ _looking_ at him. His free hand went up and cupped Ianto’s face. He didn’t want to admit that he leaned into the touch, that the little bit of contact made his stomach do flips and tie itself into knots. 

“Ianto: play me something?”

That wasn’t what he had been expecting at all. Ianto swallowed, but nodded. “What’ll it be? Some swinging 1940s big band music? I know _In the Mood_ , if you’d like.”

But Jack was already shaking his head. His hand tightened its grip on Ianto’s, pulling him closer. “Play me something beautiful.”

Ianto slipped out of Jack’s grip, uncomfortable. Still, he started up to the front of the pub again, slipping onto the piano bench and poking at the keys. Something beautiful. After a moment his fingers began to move, almost of their own accord. _La Vie En Rose_ filled the air of the small Pub. Next thing Ianto knew, Jack was sitting down on the floor next to him, two drinks in hand. He placed one gently on top of the piano, then sat back down, resting a hand on Ianto’s lap. He didn’t say a word as Ianto played the song. Even as the last notes faded away, and Ianto nervously took a gulp of his fresh drink, Jack sat there in silence.

“Jack?” The sound of Ianto’s voice seemed to be enough to break whatever spell Jack was under. He squeezed Ianto’s thigh, then stood up, draining the rest of his drink in one go.

“Can we go back to yours? Please?”

Even though Ianto had wanted to be alone tonight, suddenly he was glad Jack had found him, and was with him. “Well…” Ianto smiled, “Only because you remembered your manners.”

“Thank you.” Jack smiled as he said it, leaning in and kissing Ianto long on the lips. Ianto melted into him, well and truly lost in Jack’s embrace.

**

Back at Ianto’s flat, there was no rushing, nor hurried ripping of clothes and frantic groping for lube. Ianto lay on his back as Jack sat on top of him, carefully sliding off each piece of clothing. His shoes, socks, tie, and jacket were all already abandoned in the living room. Now Jack was removing his waistcoat, and slowly undoing each button of his shirt. “Jack,”

Jack shook his head, shushing Ianto. “You know, I love the piano.” Ianto’s shirt unbuttoned, Jack leaned down and kissed Ianto’s chest lightly. “Takes me back.” Another light kiss, this one to Ianto’s left nipple. He sighed and reached down, carding a hand through Jack’s hair. “Makes me feel like it’s 1941 again. Like,” a kiss to his other nipple, “like I’m free. No worries, no responsibilities.” His eyes lifted, and he stared into Ianto’s.

“Like you’re not in charge of Torchwood?” 

Jack held Ianto’s gaze purposefully. He knew what he was trying to say: he never wanted the responsibility, but now he wouldn’t give it up. Not if it meant he could keep them safe. Or at least try.

Jack’s hands resumed their task, divesting Ianto of his belt, then trousers. His pants came off next, erection jutting free of its cloth confines. Jack took it in hand and began stroking it, almost absently. Ianto arched into the touch. “If I had known you play…” For a moment Jack just grinned, staring off into the distance even as his hand continued to pump Ianto. “Well, l would have made you play for me. Every day.” He focused on Ianto again. “Ready?”

Ianto rolled his eyes. If his hips weren’t a dead giveaway, thrusting into Jack’s hand with increasing urgency, his chest rising and falling with quickened breaths should have been. “Will you just get on me?”

Jack grinned, and then his clothes were gone, shucked off with all the speed well-practiced by Jack Harkness. He sat on Ianto’s hips as he prepared himself, reaching behind and thrusting his slicked fingers in and out. Ianto watched, mesmerized, at his hand appear and disappear between his thighs. His hand stroked at Jack’s thigh, fingers tracing small patterns over the skin and hair. 

With a muffled groan, Jack removed his fingers from himself, turning his attention to Ianto. He slicked him up with quick strokes, as Ianto writhed and moaned at the sensation. “Jack…” and then Jack was pressing down onto him, pulling him into that tight heat. Ianto groaned, fingers going to grip at Jack’s hips.

He settled onto Ianto, wiggling slightly as he adjusted the angle. Ianto grinned at the small movement. “Alright there?”

“With you in me? Always.” Jack leaned down and kissed Ianto languidly. They began to move: short, rocking thrusts, barely enough stimulation. 

            Ianto broke the kiss first, thrusting up more harshly. “Jack…” 

            “So impatient,” Jack murmured into his neck. But he complied, lifting himself up on strong thighs and thrusting down onto Ianto. Both men groaned: there was no more chance of slow and steady now. Jack raised himself up and slid back down onto Ianto, head thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out. Ianto loved seeing Jack like that. Not wild, or loose: he was like that normally. But so unreservedly _happy_ , giving himself over to a few moments of peace and bliss. 

            Ianto groaned as Jack increased the pace of his downward thrusts. “Jack,” Jack’s head snapped back, down, and he grinned wickedly at the sight of a panting, close to completion Ianto.

            “Ianto?”

            He was close – really close. The things Jack’s body did to him…completely obscene. But no need for Jack to get a swollen head about it. “Could you…” _Ah, damn it_ : Jack clenched his muscles around Ianto on the next slide down, nearly sending him over the edge right there. “Could you move your heel? Digging into the side of my arse.”

            For a moment, Jack’s movement stilled. _Not_ the reaction Ianto wanted. He tried gripping Jack’s thighs and thrusting up into him, but without Jack moving with him, it wasn’t enough. _Nothing is ever enough, with Jack_. But then Jack was kissing him, moving the offending foot and thrusting down on him even more passionately than before. Ianto broke the kiss, gasping. He held Jack close to him and buried his face into his neck, breathing in his smell. One more quick downward thrust and Ianto was coming, filling Jack. 

            Jack stilled as Ianto came back down. As he recovered, he cracked open an eye to see Jack slowly stroking himself, waiting for Ianto to come back to himself. “You’re beautiful, like that. You know?”

            Ianto’s throat was dry, and he shook his head. He couldn’t think about this, not when his mind was still so blissfully fuzzy. He reached out and grabbed at Jack, jerking him off quickly. Jack’s come coated his fingers, and a sated Jack collapsed on top of him.

            Ianto’s hands stroked Jack’s back, soothing him in post-coital lassitude. Absently, he began to tap out _As Time Goes By_ on Jack’s back, enjoying the feel of Jack’s skin depressing beneath his fingers slightly with each tap. Beneath him, Jack shifted. Ianto’s fingers came to an abrupt halt as he did.

            “Don’t stop.” 

            The words, mumbled into Ianto’s neck in a post-coital haze, made Ianto’s heart skip a bit, and his breath catch in his throat. Jack must have noticed the tension, because he pulled back, looking down at Ianto questioningly. 

            “You’re crushing me. Roll over onto your stomach.” Ianto smiled softly up at Jack. He leaned down and kissed him softly before complying, rolling off Ianto and settling onto his stomach. Ianto rolled onto his side, propping himself up next to Jack’s broad, tanned back. _Dunno how he stays tan in Wales. Must go to tanning beds. Not his natural color: his pale arse is proof of that_. Ianto started tapping out some notes on Jack’s back, and he hummed in approval. 

            “Should have told me-” a yawn interrupted Jack’s sentence, “years ago. Love… piano…” One more song, then Ianto stopped, peering over at Jack’s face pressed against the pillow. He was asleep already, smile ghosting across his face. Ianto played a little trill on Jack’s back, then settled in next to him, and fell asleep.

**

The next day, Ianto came home to find an upright piano in his flat. There was no note, no anything. Just a new addition, sitting innocuously against his living room wall. So he pulled out the bench, and began to play.

   



End file.
